


La Vie en Rose

by Lucky107



Series: Pride and Disgrace [2]
Category: Fallout 2
Genre: Boxing & Fisticuffs, Broken Bones, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: Stuart is experienced, if not gentle, when it comes to wrapping her hands in tight gauze.





	

**Author's Note:**

> La Vie en Rose - Louis Armstrong - 1950

Stuart Little is experienced, if not gentle, when it comes to wrapping Aslaug's hands in tight gauze.

"Might feel a little funny if you ain't used to it," he rattles off, but Aslaug's not paying attention.  She knows the Jungle Gym comes with its own set of rules and she's been advised to follow them strictly.  "The tape's gotta be tight to protect your hands.  Even with the gloves, you're liable to hurt yourself up there."

Aslaug offers a not-so-subtle grunt in response and she flexes her hands through the swollen layers of boxing tape.  "Thanks."

Stuart slides the plastic red casing over each hand before beckoning for Aslaug to stand up; she does as she's asked without question, towering over her manager.  He has to crane his neck to see her, but he's grinning like the devil.  "Go kick some ass, girl."

With a single nod, Aslaug heads to the ring.  When she steps into the overbearing circle of light that engulfs the stage, she staggers at the intensity.  She can't see a damn thing past the bright stage lights, but it doesn't hold her back: with one powerful motion she propels herself up and into the ring, shocking the crowd into silence.

Only once her eyes have adjusted does she see her opponent in the opposite corner.  He's a large man, the size of a truck and just as mean.  His head is shaved and his broad, well-toned chest glistens with sweat when he flexes his muscles.

Aslaug would be lying to herself if she denied the impressiveness of the hulking man opposite her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!"  The announcer, a clean-cut man in a freshly-pressed suit, addresses the audience from the center of the ring.  "Tonight's match is brought to you by—"

But Aslaug doesn't care about formalities.

As the announcer continues to ramble off sponsors of the match, she takes a moment to survey her surroundings.  Within the first row, which is the extent of her limited vision with that big stage light in her face, she sees the faces of men and women of all ages and dispositions.  They've come for one thing tonight: blood sport.

"In this corner," the announcer says, casting a hand in Aslaug's direction and regaining her attention.  "A first-time challenger, fresh from the wasteland and new to New Reno - Valkyrie!"

The crowd is silent.

"And in this corner," he says, switching arms like the referee of a street race.  When the crowd kicks up in hollers and shouts that nearly blow Aslaug's hearing, she clenches her fists in taut anticipation.  "You know him, you love him - it's Joqq!"

Aslaug realises, for the first time since agreeing to fight, just how much is weighing on her success in this match.  Losing is no longer an option if she hopes to walk out of here and find that G.E.C.K.

The announcer’s voice comes again, and this time he's got both arms out as he speaks to the audience - as if they're actually paying him any mind.  "So, without further ado—!"

And as soon as the announcer has escaped from the ring, the beast of a fellow called Joqq starts into the center of the ring.  Aslaug can hear the blood rushing in her ears, loud enough to drown out the audience, as she matches his steps beat for beat.

When they come head-to-head, Joqq squares his shoulders.  "I'll snap you like a twig."

"Try it," Aslaug provokes and Joqq throws a couple of sloppy, predictable jabs.

He's left-handed, she notes, and quick with his temper; on account of his large size, he's also fairly slow.  With a fake left distraction, Aslaug goes for an upper-handed right show and successfully lands a blow square in her opponent's face.

The rest is a blur...

 

"And the winner is, by means of a knockout: Valkyrie!"  The announcer says, enthusiastically throwing Aslaug's limp arm into the air in a show of victory.  Had he not done it entirely himself, she wouldn't have had the strength to keep her arm up for more than a moment.  All she wants right now is to assess the damage.

Once the formalities are over and Stuart manages to successfully help her out of the ring, he says, "Great job out there, kid!"

But Aslaug wants no part in the celebration.

"Something's broke," she grunts, all but falling down onto the bench where she prepped for the fight.  Her sluggish and careful movements tell Stuart immediately that Aslaug's in all sorts of pain.  "... Damn it."

She lifts her arms away from her abdomen, which she protects like a mother bear, and allows Stuart room to assess the damage.  With careful fingers he prods for tenderness until he finds a spot that makes her hiss like a cat.  "You got yourself some broken ribs, honey."

Lowering her arms very slowly, Aslaug is cautious of pain or irritation.  _Shit_ , she thinks.  _It hurts even when I_ breathe _. What the hell have I done?_

"You ain't going back in the ring for at least three weeks," Stuart begins into his rambling again, but this time Aslaug listens.

She can't be out for three weeks; she can't even afford to stay in New Reno for three weeks.  Her family needs her to find that G.E.C.K. if they hope for any chance of survival - they're _depending_ on her.  If she fails, they _die_.

Feeling cornered, Aslaug reaches up to threateningly grab onto Stuart's suspenders once again.  This time, however, she only manages with one hand on account of the pain in her torso and her grip is only a fraction of her previous efforts.  "...  It can't wait."

"You on the run, honey?"  Stuart jabs, but he just laughs.  "Perhaps you've got a debt to settle?"

"My family..."

Without prying, Stuart sits back from Aslaug and studies her.  Her sharp, ragged breaths indicate she's in no position to fight, but there's a fire burning in her eyes and Stuart knows she'll do whatever it takes.  Even without all the details, he can tell his misjudged her.

Fishing through his pocket, he produces what looks like an Old World inhaler.  Instead of offering it, however, he presses it into Aslaug's hand and closes her hand around it.  "Awright, if you're sure, this should help with the pain."

Aslaug takes a moment to study her gift before looking up to Stuart expectantly.  "... What is it?"

"The Mordino family has been pushing the stuff," he explains.  "Street name's Jet.  It'll act as a sort of painkiller, but the duration is short.  Gotta keep that in mind; use it just before you fight.  Without this you'll be taking the full recovery time for those ribs."

But Stuart never mentions the high addiction rate and painful withdrawal symptoms that accompany this miracle cure, Jet.

\- - -

Aslaug is a mess when Stuart enters the ring to pull her to safety.

Oh, the Masticator's finished—and not just in reputation.  Stuart struggles, and fails, to shoulder the beast of a woman draped across his shoulders, but he takes special care to clean the blood - the Masticator's blood - from her lips, her chin.  She suffers not a single broken bone in her body, but boy howdy did she give the crowd a show.

"Hey, can you hear me, honey?"  Stuart probes, but his voice is no more than a whisper to avoid the attention of nearby patrons.  "Listen, Aslaug, you gotta get a hold of yourself.  You know what you just did up there?"

"Nothin' they ain't seen before."

"But Mike's a mad dog," the little man counters strongly, lowering Aslaug to sit down on the prep bench.  "You ain't a mad dog, are you?"

With an uncharacteristic dopiness, she says, "If you want me to be."

That's when Stuart realises the full extent of his mistake; when that scrawny kid came in on behalf of the Mordino family, he should never have agreed to take the Jet he was offered.  But Stuart had never been told the full extent of the dangers - he was told that it would help aspiring boxers in the ring, not ruin them as people.

Sure, Aslaug was successful tonight and she stamped her place in New Reno.  The effects of the drugs, however, are as clear as day to Stuart and he has to hold onto faith that a cure exists because he'll never be able to restrain Aslaug through the withdrawal on his own.

And he doesn't dare confide in anyone else.

"Kid," Stuart says, this time loudly and with an edge of frustration.  The dopey Aslaug looks up at him, seeing clearer now than she has in days.  "You're in trouble if we don't get that shit out of your system.  You understand me?"

Aslaug offers a slow nod of her head, as if the action comes as an afterthought.  "... Just tell me what to do."

"The one who gave me the stuff is a kid called Myron," Stuart explains.  He places a hand on each of her shoulders, intent on keeping her focused.  "You find him, you might find yourself some answers."


End file.
